


This Thing All Things Devours

by Sparrowhawkshadow



Category: Mass Effect, Mass Effect (Comics), Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect - Various Authors, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Alternative Perspective, Asari Gender, Bigotry & Prejudice, Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Cyborgs, Disenchantment, Doom, F/F, Fix-It, Fix-It of Sorts, Genderqueer Character, Hero Worship, It's Not Paranoia If They're Really Out To Get You, Like, M/M, Mass Effect 2, Morally Ambiguous Character, Multi, Non-Canonical Main Character, Not Canon Compliant, Oh Yes "Reapers", Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pseudoscience, Rare Pairings, Rarepair, Reapers, Saren Arterius Is His Own Warning, Saren Lives, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Slow To Update, Temporary Character Death, Video Game Knowledge of How Gun Battles Actually Work, Video Game Mechanics, Villain as Hero, Xenophobia, alternative universe, neurodivergence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 04:21:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29396175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sparrowhawkshadow/pseuds/Sparrowhawkshadow
Summary: ~ On Eden Prime, a Spectre is shot and left for dead by the human he is supposed to evaluate, and the Council sends its best Agent to hunt down the murderer. And all that over some ancient artifact. Or is it? ~
Relationships: (Minor) Liara T'Soni/Ashley Williams, Liara T'Soni/Ashley Williams, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added, Saren Arterius & Liara T'Soni, Saren Arterius & Nihlus Kryik, Saren Arterius/Garrus Vakarian
Kudos: 4





	This Thing All Things Devours

**Author's Note:**

> ~Updates ... irregular, I'm sorry.
> 
> This was very much inspired by Kuraiummei's Either Die a Hero, NoisyNoiverns' Broken Mirror, and Angelwingsl3's The Reaper and his Archangel - without whom I wouldn't have gotten into the fandom, and kept getting hooked. I used to think Saren was the villain ...
> 
> I started this in 2016 (lmao) and I have about ... two-plus binders full of handwritten story plus two binders full of notes/research, AND several hundred pages worth of actually -newly - typed story. I know what's going to happen. I have an ending for ME 3, and it doesn't stop there X-D.  
> But apparently I can't write in a linear fashion, so I also have missing pieces in between. I've now decided to just... stop chickening out of posting it. It has now ~something~ of a beginning, even if I'm not entirely satisfied with it, and that is one of the things that'll be edited later on again.
> 
> That said: I will update as soon as I have finished editing the next linear piece, but because this is so long I might end up later writing things I need to set up earlier and the only choice for not waiting until I've finished this in ... maaaybe, another five years, is later editing earlier chapters.
> 
> I hope you enjoy reading, and if you'd like a finished story I hope you'll come back later. Thank you!~

  
  


  
_This thing all things devours,_   
_Birds, beasts, threes, flowers,_   
_Gnaws iron, bites steel,_   
_Grinds hard stones to meal,_   
_Slays king, ruins town,_   
_And beats high mountain down._

  
~J.R.R.Tolkien, The Hobbit - Riddles In The Dark ~

**Chapter One: Airdrop to Eden**

  
  


  
  


~~~

The soil was soft and crumbling beneath the reinforced toes of his hardsuit, fertile ground that now smelt like death.

On the soil of Eden Prime, a single lone figure in a silver hardsuit lifted their head slowly, as if scenting the air through the inhuman rebreather of their helmet. The back of their head was unnaturally elongated, even to those who were familiar with the spindly limbs and long talons that held a simple pistol.

Saren Arterius, the longest serving turian Spectre, rose from the crouch after he had made certain that the area was clear. His combat scanner showed him nothing. The predator hearing given too all the sound-sensitive turians didn't register hostile movement - or any. He didn‘t holster his pistol – the one that had fired three rounds, muted, against three hostiles that now lay … dead was the wrong word.

It was the geth.

Geth couldn‘t die, because they had never been alive to begin with.

They were as much a construct as the figure that had struck them down.

~~

Saren had already been in the system – caught in transit by faulty data on his nav- from a relash from the Relay, had been his best guess. He‘d been elbowspur-deep in the nav data, metaphorically speaking, when the feed had been rudely interupted by a scrambling device of some sort at a level of power he‘d hardly ever seen before. It had brought up several memories, none of them pleasant. Saren had been suited up and in the shuttle before he‘d even finished watching the video transmission his sensors had caught in a last feeble effort of superior Spectre gear before dying on him.

That last feat alone would have been enough to bring him planetside. Whoever it was that could access that level of technical weaponry had to be controlled, or at least identified to deal with in a sufficiently planned manner later on. Instead, he‘d gone in blind, which he hated. Though not for long.

  
  


There were spirits-damned machines, everywhere. Ransacking a colonised world of a sentient race acknowledged by the Council. It was not to be borne, as much as he might offer objections to the colony or the race personally.

He'd not seen a human, living or dead, since he arrived. There did not seem to be much hope for the former. At least - if he did not count those abominations that looked - hauntingly like the human form. It hadn't improved their general eerie physique with the string like torso and wrongly bent limbs, and yet he found himself glad they were not - .

They were not. Something else. He ripped his thoughts away from the image, shoved firmly down into the dark mental recesses he kept for _Later_. After the mission. Was before the mission, yet that did not matter now.

So far, Saren had only encountered the colony‘s safety equippment, mostly drones repurposed with a reprogrammed Identify-Friend-Foe, and dragon‘s teeth crawling with husks, luckily of the human species instead of his own. He‘d quashed the memories down, clamped his teeth equally tight, and smashed through the easily broken plate-less bodies in a half-frenzy of narrow, whithening stare that had nothing to do with faulty optics and all with poorly controlled emotional uproar within him.

It was as unprofessional as it also got him through masses of enough bodies to fill the first three teeth-structures before migraine kicked him in the spine from the heavy biotic draw in quick succession. He dropped into a corner made by two blocks of concrete debris leftover from some building slabs. If this was their detritus, the settlement must be nearby.

Hopefully he was disguised to the initial scan from the air by further drones. It was time to lay out a plan of attack. First, however, he administered a dose of specifically targeted painkiller to deal with eventual focusing problems from the migraine. He also had to let his amp cool off before it burned out. Then, to work.

It was the geth, it had to be. He had no hard proof, as none had shown itself yet, not yet, but from the look of the abominations, glowing with circuitry, he would have. They had lurched towards him like the living nightmares of what would happen if organics ever lost control of their technology. It had to be the machine race. It had to be. It only made sense. He was sure, in his gut, that it had to be the geth - he just couldn't put his finger on the 'how' or 'why' yet, but it was there, he knew it. Even if he wasn't quite sure how he knew, with the daunting certainty creeping like ice through his chest, and yet. Those abominations. The limbs riddled with machinery, acting under another conscience. All thought gone. Empty glowing eyes full of baleful fire and a foreign thought. They seemed too similar to the - _before_.

He cut that thought off with a vengeance. He could not think that, wasn't allowed to think that.

He would not allow himself. He was on the job, and he had work to do.

Like a breath in, a breath out.

It was simple.

Those humans in the colony, they had not seemed to have expected an attack. But apparently neither had their enemies, not from him. And none would be prepared for the most ruthless Spectre the galaxy had to offer.

  
  


The making of his presence as a Spectre might have been more metaphorical, the construction of his body less complete and insidious than the consciences running the machine race. The combination only made that he was the most fitted for the job. He would _erase_ them if that was necessary to keep the peace of the Galaxy. Many would quail before that, but the geth had been almost eradicated once, and they would be before they destroyed _everything_. He had made that promise long ago, both as a Spectre, and to himself. He would not fail his promise.

They would only hold this settlement as long as he allowed it. And he wasn't of a mind to show mercy.

~

Saren found the squad shortly after the first signs of buildings.

He‘d been stalking his way past a jumble of broken concrete up a steep incline – it looked like some garbage heap from broken-down prefabs, concrete blocks, steel and plastics cast aside in a heap as tall as the next rise over. He‘d been contemplating sneaking to the top of the rise. Since the scanner might not be reliable, he needed to catch a glance of the hostiles from his targeting optics. He needed to figure out a tactic of how to aquire intel on their actual goal. A human fringe colony that specialised in agriculture could not be it for a race that had no need of physical sustenance. And they had no more organic allies - since the end of their service to the Quarians. At least, that he knew of. If that had changed, he needed to know too, and that as soon as possible. It would be- a significant risk to peace. So first, he needed eyes on. After all, there was no use getting shot at when the enemy had all the intelligence and he didn‘t even have a fixed target in mind.

 _That_ turned out not to be mutual.

The first shot had him pressed up to the concrete, gun ready and spine tingling from the energy rising to his bidding in a knee-jerk reaction. A heartbeat later he‘d realised the shots couldn‘t have been aimed at him at all and had, in fact, gone far to the side on his nine.

They were continuing, and a gun from a different make joined, short, rapid bursts of shots … so who was shooting, and who was still shooting back? He was relatively certain the machines were the ones attacking, so their target was the one answering, though it was only one. Automated weapon and controlled bursts, so not a civilian, or at least an experienced one. He knew humans had no mandatory service like turians did. Likely one of the colony‘s security.

They might know more. He needed to act quickly before they, too, died.

Shuffling around the block of concrete that made up his cover, he peered around the edge to find the attackers.

~

Three drones. Their staccato fire aimed on a pile of natural rock slightly above his position on the steep incline, rock that was throwing up splinters. Holding, but as two drones held whoever was hiding out captive by continued fire - a third started to circle. Staying put was always a bad option against machines. They were too well connected not to strategically outmaneuver their target.

Apparently, their prey was smart enough to realise that, as a figure burst from the outcropping, half sliding and half tumbling in erractic zig-zag course downwards – smart. Yet low odds in the long run. Surviving the drones‘ attack wouldn‘t help to evacuate with broken bones.

Not everyone could be a biotic, however.

Saren used the distraction to stand up, spine flaring with collected energy. In a blast of blinding blue, he threw out a quick explosion at one of the two drones that blew them both.

The third turned on him immediately.

It had rightfully decided he was the bigger threat - which Saren had _not_ expected, really. It was hardly standard programming for a drone to employ survival-first tactics. Firmware tended to prioritise eliminating current targets over keeping machinery functional, as there were generally many more than just one drone of those types. Expensive, but discardable. Yet this drone didn't seem to want to ... sacrifice - _itself_?

Therefore, the abrupt about-face took him by surprise, and the realisation lodged cold in his gut alongside hot satisfaction. It was only further clues that he had been right, and soon he would have his proof for the Council. He shook it off. It was not time to triumph or dispair. He couldn't afford to be distracted under machine gun fire.

Yet even so his reflexes to a muzzle suddenly pointed in his direction were rote and quick enough that he put three shots from his handgun into the central control part before the drone had completed the turn. A burst of shots from below joined them. The drone came down smoking, and he threw himself down behind cover before the explosion went off.

He gave the zone a quick once- over – all clear, for now. A human in combat armour was standing, carefully, in luridly coloured ceramic that had to be mercenary on anyone but a turian. No rank insignia, female. She was entirely within his firezone, which was likely why she‘d decided he had to be somewhat friendly if she wasn‘t dead yet.

Saren stood, and saw her freeze, just for a moment. So she hadn‘t seen him well enough to identify his race earlier. Not surprising, from the chase the drones had given her. Also, probably didn‘t trust turians, or at least didn‘t expect them on her colony, which was a reasonable approach on both counts, given the lingering enmities.

"Identify yourself."

He had the high ground – literally and metaphorically speaking – and he would keep it.

There was a pause, just the slightest, before the human apparently either decided they didn‘t want to tangle with a biotic who had their high-powered handgun still trained straight on their centre mass at short distance, or believed he was preferrable to crazy machinery that had started shooting its masters since he was at least willing to talk.

"Ashley Williams, Dog Squad of the Eden Prime‘s armed forces." She had a fierce voice despite the panting and the roughness from the run and the adrenaline of her brush with death. The hesitation after was just a little too long to not be noticeable. "Thanks for the save, I guess." She sounded just a bit too begrudging. It was as expected. No matter, if she remained cooperative.

Saren tilted his head, just slightly enough for the light to catch his motion. He lowered his gun just a little – too little to actually matter if he had to shoot, and would in fact catch her straight in the abdomen, but enough to be symbolic to show he was willing to talk.

"Dog Squad?" If you simply repeated their last words at them instead of asking outright, most people told you more than even torture would let them reveal. It wasn‘t in the identification his Spectre gadgets were automatically lifting from her omnitool's repeated but doomed attempt to reestablish the broken satellite connection. But then, if it was a nickname, it wouldn‘t be.

"We‘re tasked with guarding the – landing zone of the – complex." Interesting. She was quick on the uptake, and also bad at lying and hiding something. Unusual - he'd have liked to say for a human, but truly? Most people were abominably bad liars for how often they practiced it.

"Then we noticed those … the robots coming in. We were on break - " she interrupted herself, turning a half circle with her gun raised while giving him her three – she must be quite shaken. Apparently drawing her last movement vector. She turned to him quickly enough, however, apparently mustering him from her opaque visor.

Her shoulders slumped. "They‘re all dead, those bastards gunned them down." There was rage in her voice, and also shock. At least that was likely real - it _smelled_ real on her, not just the good kind of adrenaline but also the bad kind of cold sweat. He could pick up her quickened heartbeat even through the layers of ceramic. That might be just about lying to a dangerous opponent, however. He did have a bead on her, so it seemed reasonable enough.

"We didn‘t expect a turian to come in. Sir." She was apparently guessing he was military.

Close enough but nonsensical for a turian from the forces to appear on Eden Prime, and close enough to an act of war that the Turian Hierarchy would never support it. Unless the humans here were expecting someone else. He could use that.

"I‘m not from the vessel you‘re expecting." Give them something. Make them believe he already knew, and she'd tell him more. From the way she‘d said it, it had been obvious they were waiting on someone. Not a turian, apparently.

"Then who‘re you with?" Tense again, her grip on her gun tightening.

"ST&R." She didn‘t react, and Saren hadn‘t really expected her to. Humans were really too new to the galaxy to grow up with vids of his predecessors turned into holoscreen heroes. He‘d so far quashed any attempts to include him himself. It wasn‘t the kind of reputation he was after. He needed her to accept his authority over the situation without too much of resistance to slow him down, however. So after a beat, he added,

"Special Tactis and Reconnaisance. I‘m a Council Spectre." With a flick of his wrist, he sent the ID confirmation to her omnitool.

This did the trick, as she lowered her gun.

"You‘re with the Council." Saren gave an agreeing hum, and nodded for good measure. Most species didn‘t understand subvocals, and humans seemed most like asari physically. "Then we may have a chance! They‘re heading right for the landing zone – if we‘re fast enough, we can get there before they reach the scientists."

Save her colony‘s occupants, maybe, but scientists … Saren wasn‘t a fan, by any means. Together with the information aquired earlier … it was all conjecture, but she didn‘t need to know that. Yet scientists usually liked to have information. His disquiet would have to take a backseat.

Maybe they _wouldn't_ be corrupt.

"They‘re likely attempting to head of the approach before it can start – or the take-off. We have to make it in time."

"That‘ll give us thirty to get to the LZ – we won‘t make it through a hotzone in that!" So 05.45 local time – just before sunrise planetside, going by his helmet‘s hub.

"We may yet. Do not underestimate what I can do." He wasn‘t one for false assurances, but he was fairly confident he could fight through local security equipment. Far more important was the knowledge that there was, indeed, an approach planned, and it was planned to take place in semi-darkness still. The LZ would have lights, but the rest of the apparent scientific complex might not yet be occupied.

A pause, again, that she apparently needed to overcome her reluctance to trust an alien who had shown up with no warning. An attitude he approved of, generally speaking.

"All right."

She started back up the slope she‘d came from, but turned at an angle as soon as they cleared the top. From here, it was a gentle slope through overgrown terrain, tall rocks interspersed with bush that stole their line of sight but hopefully would do the same for anyone before they could spot them. He easily kept up with her trod, one step for three of hers. Her breath had slowed down form her sprint quickly, at least. He might just be able to trust her competence enough that she wouldn‘t get in his way.

He deliberated for a moment, but ultimately quick information was more vital than her believing him already in the know. If she refused, he could simply shoot her and show up at the mentioned time, which would also stop her slowing him down. It was likely the common soldiers hadn‘t even been told.

"Have you been briefed on the purpose of the arrival?"

"Only that we needed to know there was a vessel coming", she said slowly. From the angle of her shoulder as they started winding their way down the slope through the rocky terrain with a few meters between them, she was also sideying him through her visor. She was also radiating an aura of distrust that apparently didn‘t allow to leave him out of her sight in favour of murderous security equipment.

A pause, then she seemed to settle on an approach.

"No offence – sir – and its none of my business what you‘re here for, but everyone knew about the dig on the colony. They‘ll tell you all about it as soon as we arrive – if they‘re still alive."

_I know you know less than you say you do, but I‘m deciding to work with you because I need something, so you might work with me as well._

He might as well. If the colony had nothing to do with it her intel would speed things up, and if it did he‘d already said he was a Spectre, and she could link him to Nihlus‘ mission anyway. Even if she was in on it she might become more relaxed if she believed he had no specific mission that might cross her plans.

"I was in the sector when I noticed the scrambler, and decided that who was destroying a colony was add odds with Council interests. I thought slavers, but they do not have the tech."

She didn‘t stumble, but her step faltered for just a second.

"So you‘re our hero?" Saren‘s mandibles did an unseen flick of amusement. The scepticism dripping from her tone was justified, even if she‘d never know the full extent of how right she was. "No offence meant, sir." The not-apology sounded rather acrid to his ears, but then it wasn't exactly like he cared.

"Absolutely none taken. So you think the arrival is connected to the dig, and not directly to the attack."

"… You think it might be a set up", she said slowly, as if that hadn‘t been on her mind before.

"It‘s a common enough tactics with the bigger rings to have an affiliated company book a transport for when slavers will arrive, and we are at the fringe of the, so to speak, civilised part of the galaxy", Saren flicked his crest. "What I want to know is what other possibitlies there are that might seem reasonable grounds for an attack on a colony. Whoever is behind it does not seem to fear the Council‘s ire, or even your Alliance‘s."

"It‘s not like the Council will do anything about the outer colonies. Sir. They might even pull you back."

Saren snorted.

"They never do."

"Must be nice." William‘s tone was laced with irony. Saren didn‘t know whether she was deliberately trying for a reaction or was just generally obstinate, but found he liked this attitude more than the shivering, craven fear his presence tended to evoke. Granted, he had worked for his reputation, and it served him well enough, but it was annoying all the same. He‘d admittedly not yet given his name, and wondered how that might change her attitude.

"All right", she said again. They were down most of the slope, and the upper edges of a prefab compound appeared on their twelve, but Williams turned right to circle the structure in a wide arc as she continued. "They pulled an artifact from the digsite at the old compound because they‘d used some new tech on the old electromagnetic scanner they had – some gift from the asari, I think -" Williams started explaining, but Saren‘s heart had stopped for a beat, gripped in sudden, icy fear.

An artifact.  
It might be nothing. It might be anything.

But there were machines malfunctioning and a colony attacked for no reason.

"Sir?"

"Tell me about this artifact", Saren ordered, his voice sounding rough. He knew his turmoil was visible, but right know he couldn‘t care less. He started walking again, at a double time.

"Uh. They dug it out four days ago, and everyone knew about it because they have interns who talk on their break and there are always some of the youngsters hanging around the dig – nothing to do in a small colony settlement - "

"Have you seen it?" Saren demanded, interrupting.

"Yes- " He stopped. She did, too, after a moment as she realised he was no longer moving.

"Take of your helmet."

"What?" She sounded more confused than anything else. Maybe -

"Take off your helmet." He could hear a snarl creeping into his voice, nothing of the cold steel of the seasoned agent, rather more the young soldier he had been. He pushed that thought away with a supreme effort of will, breathed in deeply. His finger slipped inside the trigger guard.

She stiffened immediately, but then deliberately lowered her gun and reached up to her visior. Why she choose to trust a snarling turian he had no idea. He would have shot first. Or maybe not. Maybe she wanted to know what he did.

Saren shuddered even as the visor retracted.

Brown face, fleshy lips pressed together and the hairy line above her eyes scrunched. Darker brown eyes that were squinting at him in an attempt to read him and also blink through the half light after the optical enhancements of the visor were gone. Simply brown eyes, nothing more. Not a spec of blue, nor of circuitry. She was grey under her darker skin, from the strain of running for her life and not knowing who was alive, but she was organic. Entirely organic, as far as he could tell.

He could feel himself relaxing, just incrementally.

"What does it look like." She blinked at him, brow still furrowed. He had gotten used to how asari and now human skin folded in on itself over the years, but it still looked strange to him. She answered readily enough, however.

"Like - some kind of column. Abstract... About as tall as four floors, or so, they didn‘t have a crane strong enough to lift it and ordered one from the main port. Dark material, not quite black, oily surface. Laced with blue veins." Her tone was matter of fact, no sense of worship. Still.

"Blue veins?"

"I‘m no judge, but it looked a bit like eezo. Doesn‘t give a glow, but it‘s buzzing like a drivecore, just quiet. Or like your … thing."

Saren‘s breath stuttered again, his chest and limbs locking up for a moment long.

"Like my biotics", he said slowly. He felt like he was talking through a thick, stiffling fog, like wading through fumes in a drug den. His heart had restarted, and was now thumping away double time, each beat almost painful. As if it wanted to fight. Or to run.

She squinted again, face scrunching. "Not quite like it, but close enough." A pause. "Will that be relevant for …?" She indicated it with a wave in front of them. The mission. The colony. Whatever this is.

"Likely." He paused. He didn‘t want to ask, but he had to know.

"Did those that saw it start acting strangely?", he asked, at the same time as she said, "Will you take of your helmet?"

~~

  
The turian was … Ashley didn‘t know what he was. Strange was true enough, but that didn‘t quite cut it.

He‘d come out of nowhere, somehow. Saved her ass, much as she hated to admit, but she‘d have been done for if he hadn‘t stepped in.

She wanted to hate his guts for it, even as she realised that was childish, unworthy of a soldier, and several other petty things, none of which she wanted to be.

She didn‘t trust him, or his sudden appearance, but as mum tended to say when her grandfather would start scowling at the news report and another mention of the Hierarchy: we are not reenacting First Contact on our dinner plates, so stop mushing your peas.

He seemed smart enough, and that he was a biotic could make a whole lot of a difference once they found survivors – if there were any – and from his handgun he seemed to favour a closer approach than she did so they might even be able to at least not get into one another‘s way. She‘d heard enough of the Council operatives – she was military, of course she had – that she knew they took only the best, so he likely only needed her for her familarity with the terrain.

If at all.

Who said he wouldn‘t shoot her once he had what he needed? Turians were a tricky bunch, for all their supposed honour and galactic-peacekeeper rubbish. Ashley had seen the vids of the surrender of Shan-Xi – her grandfather would have been furious, but before she‘d entered the service, she thought she should at least know what everyone was insulting their name for.

The pale creature that had been sneering at her grandfather had seemed like something straight out of a horror show. It wasn‘t just the looks, she wasn‘t that shallow. The disdain and loathing in the alien‘s eerie predator stare fixed on granddad‘s face had been palpable, however. It was the Alliance‘s decision to stump her career for something she‘d had no influence on, and grandfather had little choice if he wanted to spare his people being slaughtered to a man – but she couldn‘t forget that the turian general had humilitated him. Them. It had been intentional, of that she was sure.

She at least wanted to look this one in the eye if he was planning to stab her in the back later. Remember his face, too.

  
  


  
  


Not even her colony being overrun by machines could have prepared her for the visage that greeted her when he did remove his helmet.

It was the same face.

Ashley stared. No, that wasn‘t quite right. He had the same pale, unnatural colour, a white so close to translucent it looked like a murky silver. The Spectre even had the same spines protruding backwards from his cheekbones like some sort of growth – she had never seen that on any other turian face.

Not that she‘d seen any turian faces except in holovids, but she would always remember the first one. That pale stare wasn‘t easy to forget.

This one had the same face.

Except it couldn‘t be the same turian. Ashley remembered that General had died a short timne later, for it seemed like a higher justice. This one didn‘t have his height. Ash was tall for a human, and she‘d seen the towering form stand across from Granddad. This creature was not that much taller than her, maybe by a head, if that. He was also more stocky.

There was no colour on his face. It almost didn‘t matter, because the eyes were far more noticeable. Instead of the reptile‘s eyes she‘d seen on the other the deep eyesockets gleamed with electric blue from a pair of lenses that were likely cybernetic. She could see at least three cables running from his neck into his suit even under the black wrap he‘d looped across his crest and tucked behind his cheekbone spines as if he wanted to emphasise them. Their plating had hairline cracks in several places, and the plates on his cheeks and forehead were lined with scratches, deep and shallow, some jagged, overlaying in a criss-crossing work of years.

"Who‘re you?!" It came out sharp. He was a Council agent, but he looked just like that general.

The monster from her nightmares tilted his head, focusing his eyes on her like some bird of prey.

"As I said. Council Spectre. Saren Arterius."

~

  
Arterius.

It had been the name of the general at Shan-Xi.

It wasn‘t the same man. Alien. Whatever.

"You know General Arterius." She couldn‘t quite make it into a question. They even looked the same, it was obvious. It made no sense pissing of a Spectre, and if they were related he might be just as nasty a piece of work. She still needed him to save what could be saved of the colony, ironically enough. And, maybe get out alive, that would be great.

At her words, the turian had stilled entirely – he didn‘t even seem to be breathing. Only his eyes flickered in their own, unholy light.

"Desolas Arterius was my brother." His voice was ice-cold, and entirely flat as it came after too long a moment. He still hadn‘t moved a muscle.

"Well, General Williams was my grandfather!" Calm down, Ash. Yet still, something in his face just made her want to rail at him. If the general had been the same charming type, she could see how granddad had run afoul of him.

A pause.

"That seems a strange coincidence." The turian said slowly after a moment. Something seemed to wake him up, and he blinked, suddenly tearing his gaze around to survey their surroundings.

"The galaxy‘s not that - "

"That an artifact should be found and you should be the one guarding it", he interrupted, turning back on her. She noticed he had a firm grip of his handgun, the muzzle lowered but the finger inside the trigger guard. The air had a strange sharp, peppery scent, too, like before a storm. She kept her gun well lowered and her hand away from the trigger. If he wanted she‘d be dead – she couldn‘t raise her gun in time.

And he had saved her before.

"I‘m not guarding an artifact, I‘m - we " her voice broke a little "– were guarding the civilian settlement. We got here months ago – we‘re on loan from the Alliance – long before the beacon was ever dug up."

"They call it a beacon?" He inquired, sharply.

Ashley almost shrugged but didn‘t dare, not with his gun still ready and that flickering stare trained on her.

"As far as I heard. The interns had a theory that it‘s Protean, but I‘m not an archeologist. It doesn‘t seem to do much, maybe its meant to send something. They said it stores data, but they couldn‘t get it to work."

"Then it started buzzing." It wasn‘t a question.

"I don‘t really know whether it always did that – it didn‘t when I saw it on site - "

"When did you look at it?", Arterius interrupted her, again. It was starting to irk her.

"Shortly after it was dug up – after lunch break three days ago, when I had downtime and they‘d done their initial measuring and layout and whatever archeologists do." She tried to reign in her temper – he hadn‘t shot yet, and seemed to so far mostly want intel. Maybe he would help. If he had an interest in the beacon, getting him to it might also clear the hostiles enough for survivors to get out. Yet he also seemed to believe the old technology was dangerous.

She wondered why an agent of the Council would take interest in something that was literally more than thousands of years old. She'd say so they could withhold it, but the turian seemed to be almost ... wary. Why was that?

"I don‘t really know what it does, or what you think it should do, but it didn‘t make a sound when I saw it. It was a bit of a sensation, not much happens here. That‘s the reason I went to look – I thought it was a little boring then. Until now."

"Boring." Something about that seemed to strike him, for he lowered his gun a little further and actually took his triggerfinger out of the guard. Ashley breathed a little easier, even if she hadn‘t seen him flick the safety back on. Her mum would be appalled. Then again, Spectres worked alone, as far as she knew, and he seemed a little paranoid. She doubted he cared much about gun safety. _Or maybe, he simply doesn‘t care if he shoots a human_.

"I‘m not a history buff - "

"Did you see any sign that someone seemed to have a stronger than usual interest in the artifact? That someone seemed to revere it?"

"Revere it ..?" Ashley paused. "Well, they are _a_ _rcheologists_ \- "

Arterius made a dismissive gesture with his free hand – claw. "Not like that. Not to study, not to keep it away. Did they secure it against threat, more than destruction by the elements or theft – like they thought not that it would be stolen, but attacked? Did they bring in others, or establish something that could well be seen as a shrine?" His eyes were flickering again, and his … everything of his face clenched, the plates that stood in place of a skull-like nose flared. Something had him uneasy about the beacon. Something – Ashley frowned.

"What, like it‘s … a religious icon?" She felt silly the moment she said it, but Arterius didn‘t laugh.

"Exactly like that. Religious. Or ... _magical._ "

Ashley thought, still unable to look away from his intense stare – and not only because it was an alien with a gun pointed in her direction who‘d seemed to have been on the brink of shooting her a moment ago and was now talking about a _cult_ , here on Eden Prime. Not even because he was the brother of her grandfather‘s enemy.

"Are you expecting it to … What does it do? Because they did keep it away from others - " she added, as he made to interrupted her again - "but it seemed normal enough, for scientists."

"… hopefully it will do nothing. Does nothing." Arterius said, after a moment, the tension dissipating. His ... things, pinchers, clamped to his face more than they had before. "Technology far enough advanced beyond the scope of our own will always seem magical."

"That makes no sense." The Spectre raised a questioning … he didn‘t have eyebrows, but the plate in place of them. Huh. They did have facial expression.

Of a sort. It wasn't exactly an improvement. Not in his case. The distaste for her in general and the idea of working with her in the specifics was evident on his ... scales, she supposed.

She'd heard of Arterius. She'd bet he hadn't heard enough of her to realise just how little she'd allow him to walk all over her. Spectre or no. She was a Williams. He was an Arterius. That should have been all the warning he needed. She didn't need him to be nice, could actually care less of what he thought of her. She only needed him to help her save the colony or, more realistically - let her help him enough to save the colony, with at little casualties as possibly. And he seemed cooperative on the first part, at least. She'd heard enough to know she'd have to fight him on the latter. But - even a lot of casualties were better than all of them, and - she'd work on it, she decided firmly. A few saved was better than none.

Not that it made a difference. Hate him she might, for many reasons, but she'd always heard dad warn, bitterly, that everyone had a price. She'd always been worried what'd be hers. After grandfather. Apparently, her was a colony full of - reasonably - innocent humans being killed and mutilated by alien machines. Well. There were less savoury priorities.

It felt ... too much like grandfather, and yet she'd always been told - by dad, if no one else - that he was someone to be proud of. She'd had to take the fall for the decision she hadn't even made here with her whole absent career, anyway. Against thousands dead, it wasn't much of a choice. So she was able to be blackmailed by not wanting a part of her own race killed. Could have been better. It was still shit, and all sort of fucked up to now work with Arterius of all people, but - could have been worse.

As moral faults went, she'd take it.

She'd even take on Arterius on top of her conscience. May the Lord have mercy on his by all evidence mostly absent soul, because she wouldn't have any with his manipulative turian ass.

~~~

  
  


End Notes: Chapter 1:

~ Many thanks to Thorvald, who fearlessly jumped into the breach on short notice and edited this on the very last day despite not being familiar with the fandom. Any remaining mistakes and incongruities are mine! ~


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